


hide me and protect my name

by cryptidumb



Series: given up the ability to retreat [2]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Bullying, M rating for the unpleasant reality/themes that Logan has to deal with, M/M, Misgendering, Religious Conflict, Sexual Harassment, Slurs, Trans Male Character, Trans!Logan, Transitioning, Transphobia, again...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:07:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25248898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cryptidumb/pseuds/cryptidumb
Summary: Logan keeps his cool because God knows he has to try twice as hard to be chill and unreactive and unemotional just to be seen as half as masculine as some of the other assholes he goes to school with- but he’s so, so tired of all this.Living like this- it’s exhausting
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Logic | Logan Sanders, but keep it lowkey/budding romance y'know?
Series: given up the ability to retreat [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1820251
Comments: 3
Kudos: 58





	hide me and protect my name

**Author's Note:**

> title from Foster the People's "The Contender"
> 
> general TW- most of this series will likely have one cause of the content- once again, the full list of warnings is in the end note to avoid accidental spoilers.
> 
> otherwise, there is a prequel to this if you're new here and want to check it out!! but it's not fully necessary to follow along- just some insight into Logan's coming out/past experience's as a transman.

Stocking shelves at the supermarket may not be ideal, but it helps Logan keep up with his rent and his employer is a fairly nice woman. Her name is Dot. 

She fills out all of his paperwork with his chosen name, tries her best to remember Logan's correct pronouns despite knowing him since he was nine, and avoids pencilling his shifts during school hours and Wednesday evenings (his parents had a routine and it was appreciated that she respected Logan wanted nothing to do with them).

However, even with the kindest people working alongside him to help forget his past life, sometimes it still came back to bite him in the ass.

He's just placing the last few cans of peas onto a bottom shelf, crouched down to reach the very back when someone turns into the aisle. Logan thinks nothing of it since people have been bustling around him all afternoon, but these particular footfalls ghost in the back of his mind. He can’t place exactly where, but he's heard these same steps many times before.

“Lily?” a voice calls a few feet away and-  _ oh, that explains it _ . He glances over his shoulder and confirms that it’s none other than his old pastor’s wife. Even grocery shopping, she reads the perfect image of a stepford wife. Like, is it even  _ practical _ to do your grocery shopping in heels?

Mentally cursing, Logan turns away quickly and pretends to be busy making sure the labels on the cans face outwards.

“Lilith Sanders, is that anyway to treat a friendly face?” the woman scolds, moving closer. Sighing, Logan gives in and stands up with the empty box, gripping it tightly. Whether it’s to refrain from either hiding in it or bashing the lady approaching him over the head with it, he isn’t quite sure.

“Hi, Mrs. Paul,” he grits out. Logan plasters his face with what could either be a grimace or tight smile- he hasn't decided yet.

The woman blanches when Logan finally turns to face her, clearly confused if the onceover across his chest and unsubtle glance at his nametag says anything. She recovers quickly, bright smile replacing her furrowed brows, “It’s been awhile since I’ve seen you at the sermons,” she remarks. “Where have you been, young lady?” and ouch, that one stings.

“Yeah, almost a year,” he shifts his weight from one foot to the other, looking at the floor. “And uh, I’ve been busy with some personal issues…” he decides to try and ignore the way the woman’s eyebrows raise as she looks him up and down again. He also does his best to ignore the way she’s blatantly misgendered him because Logan definitely doesn’t want to bring all of the Church to his door with pitchforks and torches.

“Mm,” Mrs. Paul hums suspiciously, “but wouldn’t those issues be so much easier to resolve with the Church’s support, Lilith?”

Logan laughs nervously, “I wouldn’t say they’re issues that need resolving, persay… Just, time and,” he scratches at the back of his head nervously, “...distance.”

Across from him, Mrs. Paul doesn’t seem to be buying it and goes into a spiel Logan is sure she’s told to at least a hundred other people. Preaching the forgiveness of Christ, the importance of regularly attending church and all that business. For the most part, the seventeen year old lets her talk, hoping that someone calls him to the cash and away from this awkward and rather unpleasant encounter. However, when Mrs. Paul calls him Lilith for the fourth time in two sentences, he snaps.

“Mrs. Paul?” he cuts the older woman off, who stops ranting with a raised brow and withering expression. “Look, it’s really nice to see you and catch up-” it’s really not, but she doesn’t need to know that- “but I’d really appreciate it if you’d stop calling me Lilith. That’s not my name,” he bursts, voice cracking slightly when repeating his deadname. “My name is Logan, just like my name tag says.”

The middle-aged woman looks almost disappointed when she’s corrected and Logan's skin crawls. Her eyes scan the teen, “Is that what this costume is supposed to be? You masqueraded as a boy?” her words are venomous, but to anyone out of earshot, she still conveys the stature of a perfect, polite lady. Logan however, begins to hunch in on himself subconsciously, anxiety beginning to bubble over.

“It’s not a costume,” Logan insists, “this is who I  _ am _ .”

“Please,” the woman snorts. “You know, Margaret told me that you had strayed from the path she and Fred had raised you on, but I never would’ve imagined that you’d fallen this far. Seeing you like this though- so ashamed of your natural femininity that you would make a mockery of being a  _ real man _ \- I now know that the rumours are true,” she wrinkles her nose. “You may even be past the point of being able to repent.”

Knuckles tightening around the box in his hand, Logan breathes deep, fighting every instinct in his body to lash out with his fists. “And you know what? I think I might be okay with that. I know who I am and I’m lucky enough to have a group of people who understand that too, so I don’t need you or your God’s blessing. 

“Now,” he musters up the most polite smile he can manage, “if there’s anything you need help finding, I’m sure one of my coworkers can help you. Otherwise, I’d like to get back to work. So if you excuse me,” Logan bites his cheek, voice dripping saccharine sweet, “have a nice life Mrs. Paul.”

And then he's stomping down the aisle towards the employee break room, praying that a customer doesn’t approach him and his wrath. He is far past ready for a coffee.

_ No one ever said being yourself was easy,  _ Logan reminds himself.  _ Then again,  _ he thinks, _ neither is figuring out how to get bubblegum out of a packer…  _ But no, there’s no way he's bitter. Most normal people would be after being borderline sexually harassed for the third time in a month, but no, Logan doesn’t do bitter- he's not going to let them get a reaction out of him again. 

So he resists throwing out his packer (he’d regret it later anyway; it was too expensive and there’s _no_ _way_ he’ll go back to using socks) and resigns himself to instead attempt to read for the rest of his night. 

When he finally heads to bed after catching himself zoning out one too many times, he insists to himself that his temper has subsided, if only slightly. However, when he enters the bathroom and sees his dick sitting on the counter, he nearly snaps his toothbrush in half.

To say the least, he goes to bed angry.

“Hey dyke!” someone shouts in the halls and Logan sighs, disappointed. Today had been going so well too. He keeps walking and then, “Lily!”

His eye twitches and he strains to not flinch. Sixteen years of responding to that name still leaves him occasionally looking up when it’s called. Today however, he refuses.

Behind him, the telltale sound of rubber soles slapping against the floor are all the warning he receives before a hand comes down hard on his shoulder, “I’m talking to you, tranny.”

“What, you prick?” Logan rolls his eyes, turning around.

One guy stands front and center, with a couple of his lackeys sneering behind him. They must be going for the intimidation tactic today.

“Thought we told you last week to keep your smart mouth to yourself,” one of the guys near the front bites. Logan vaguely recognizes him from English class. A few of the other faces ring a bell too, but none leave quite as sour a taste in his mouth; this is the guy who tossed his dick in the dumpster last week.

Logan nods, false understanding painted on his features. “Sorry, I forgot that you’re all illiterate. I’ll try to stick to third grade reading levels and below when communicating with neanderthals such as yourselves from now on.”

He turns to leave, when one of the boys steps forward to block his path. Logan then suddenly becomes hyper-aware that the hallway is becoming progressively emptier and the people present won’t offer any help to him. 

The leader guffaws, moving forward like a predator stalking his prey. Logan backs up when he crowds into his space and freezes when his back hits the chest of another guy. 

“Still that attitude,” he shakes his head, clicking his tongue in disapproval. “What are we going to do with you Lily…”

Logan glares upwards at the ringleader, but doesn’t dare say anything more. This guy is gearing up quickly to what he can only assume will lead to a fight. This doesn’t bode well for him- he was never the athletic type and he's only been on T for a few months: he won’t fare well against four guys.

They close in further around him and he feels his breathing stutter; this situation is all too similar to what happened with his father when he came out- he feels trapped.

The one in front, beefy with a buzzcut, reaches out to run a hand through his hair, his expression suddenly switching from violent to something more subdued and much, much scarier.

His hand comes to rest at the nape of his neck and when Logan tries to move away, he holds his jaw tightly in place. He bites back a frightened whimper.

“So did you get your tits removed yet princess? Or are you still hiding those under that sweater?” he says slowly out, hand slipping under the collar of Logan's shirt to roughly tug at the strap of his binder. Logan breathes heavily and doesn’t say anything.

“What,” the one from his class guffaws, “cat suddenly got your tongue?” They all cackle like hyenas and Logan tries to keep himself from shaking. 

“I-” he begins, but the one with a grip on his binder yanks sharply, choking him. His voice breaks with a strangled cry, terrified and panicked.

“Shut up, bitch. There are better things you could do with that mouth of-”

“Hey!” someone suddenly shouts from Logan's left, and he turns his head as far as possible to catch even the smallest glimpse of the distraction. He sees the guy’s legs first, scuffed converse and dark ripped jeans, legs parted in what seems to be an attempt at dominance. “Leave him the fuck alone.”

The ringleader backs off then, hand leaving Logan's shoulder as he moves away, facing off against the challenger. From around the shoulders of his dumb letterman jacket- because of course his life is so much of a cliche that he'd be harassed by jocks- he can see shaggy dyed hair. That paired with the voice leads him to only one conclusion, and god does it ever make him feel embarrassed.

It’s Patton’s ‘brother’, Virgil Dunn. He'd almost rather still be getting assaulted than have him be here, posing as his hero.

“Don’t know who you’re talking about,” the meathead says and Logan focuses back onto reality- he can worry about Virgil teasing him later- “we're not giving any  _ ‘hims’ _ a hard time.”

The idiot shifts his position and yeah, now Logan can see it’s definitely Virgil. He almost looks amused, “Really? Because either there’s a dude here and you’re just ‘messing’ around, or you’re about to catch a case.” Virgil cocks his head, “That would make it, like, the second time this semester? Sounds almost like enough to get you kicked off the team…” 

The attacker- Percy- immediately stops looking so smug, and his lackeys quiet down too. 

“I- I’m not-”

“Get the fuck out of here- all of you,” Virgil orders and with a final glance back at Logan, the leader slinks off, taking his buddies with him.

Logan breathes- properly breathes- for the first time in what feels like hours, but realistically has only been minutes. Virgil moves closer and Logan looks up at the guy, really looks at him. Where he expected mischievous smiles and cashed away reasons to tease him later, there’s only unabashed concern.

“Are you alright? Did they-”

“No, Virgil. I’m fine,” he brushes him off. “They didn’t do anything- you got here just in time.”

He looks a little less worried at that and some of the colour returns to his face. “Okay,” he says simply. He shuffles from one foot to the other and Logan clutches his books a little closer; he’s astonished he managed to hold onto them in the first place.

Silence settles over the duo like a heavy blanket, suffocating and uncomfortable, but Logan can’t put his finger on why. He knows he’s dealing with Virgil witnessing his vulnerabilities like that, but there’s no reason for him to- 

_ Stop _ , he thinks suddenly,  _ you’re overthinking this _ .

“Well, I’m gonna go,” Virgil says then and Logan looks back up at the boy. He’s turned away and started to retreat when Logan sighs.

“Virgil,” he calls, “wait.” And he does.

Logan walks over to him and reaches up, wrapping the other boy into a hug that’s probably a lot stiffer than either of them care to admit. “Thank you,” he says. Virgil smiles.

“Somebody’s gotta make sure you’re not in any trouble,” he shrugs, and with a wave, he’s gone. 

Logan is at a party for the first time since he’d come home from Roman’s the night his parents kicked him out, and it’s safe to say that he’s having about as much fun as he had the first time around. Sure, the night doesn’t end in screaming or a hand around his throat, but having guacamole poured down the back of his shirt and being screamed at for using the men’s washroom doesn’t help his sanity much either.

But, he keeps his cool because God knows he has to try twice as hard to be chill and unreactive and unemotional just to be seen as half as masculine as some of the other assholes he goes to school with, and god forbid he has to go back to using the girls’ room at school.

So he resigns himself to scrape what he can off the back of his shirt, praying it doesn’t seep through to his binder and wanders outside to the bus stop a block away once he’s regained what little dignity he can with avocado staining the back of his shoulders. He slumps over his own knees, arms protectively coming up around his face to hide it from the outside world. He rubs his eyes under his glasses: he’s so, so tired of all this shit. Living like this- it’s fucking exhausting.

Just as his eyes start to burn- tears threatening to fall. Logan rubs violently at his eyes again, probably irritating the hell out of them. His shoulders hitch, chest constricting and-

“Logan?” and his head whirls around, startled. Lo and behold, standing a few feet to his left is Virgil. 

“What Dunn?” he sighs, sitting up and wiping his under eye, hoping his eyes aren’t so swollen as to reveal what he’d just been doing. 

“Are you okay? I saw what happened back there and when you disappeared I figured…” he shrugs instead of finishing his sentence. 

“That you’d stalk me?” Logan bites and he can see Virgil's face flush even in the piss-poor lighting. He scoffs and turns back to look out into the darkness, eyes tracing the shadows and the illusion of movement that hides inside them. “How’d you even know to find me here, you creep? Are you actually stalking me? Do I have to look into getting a restraining ord-”

“L,” Virgil interrupts and Logan looks back over to him. He’s not smiling anymore as he moves closer, sitting beside Logan on the cold bench. “Cut the shit,” he says, words aggressive, but tone soft. 

“I don’t know what you mean,” he fronts, “I’m fine.”

“You don’t have to keep faking it with me- I don’t think you’re weak because this shit bothers you,” he says. “I don’t think you’re weak at all.”

Logan doesn’t say anything, just eyes him up and down as Virgil stares right back at him. Suddenly, his lanky arm moves from his side to around the other boy’s shoulder, and he pulls him over so he’s leaning against Virgil. His body is solid and warm and Logan doesn’t say anything about the guac he’s probably getting all over his sweatshirt sleeve. 

“I’m sorry,” he says just as suddenly, and Logan careens over an invisible wall, tears finally breaching his lids and chest flooding with release. “It’s not fair and I’m sorry.”

Logan stays silent, but holds the other’s arm in place around his shoulder, squeezing his hand in thanks when he can’t find the strength to say the word aloud. Virgil squeezes right back and presses a kiss into the crown of his hair. 

He thinks that maybe, just maybe, he’ll be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> TW for transphobia, misgendering, religious ignorance, use of homophobic & transphobic slurs, sexual harassment (groping mentioned in passing & the suggestive sexual threats), bullying, and emotional breakdowns
> 
> tfw when you vent through your favourite side- dw, it'll get better for Logan as we progress


End file.
